


Brat

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/F, Femlock, Femslash, Inspired by Art, Psychological Trauma, Rule 63, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Done for Let's Draw Sherlock. Painting that inspired the fic and original Tumblr post <a href="http://wiggleofjudas.tumblr.com/post/49117736716/so-i-chose-tamara-de-lempickas-girls-since-i">here</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Brat

**Author's Note:**

> Done for Let's Draw Sherlock. Painting that inspired the fic and original Tumblr post [here](http://wiggleofjudas.tumblr.com/post/49117736716/so-i-chose-tamara-de-lempickas-girls-since-i).

London rumbles cheerful for having won the war: brass and drums on the high street. Clean sounds for a clean triumph.  _Our boys,_ the crowds swoon into engine exhaust,  _our boys._

Joan stares at the cracks splitting the plaster wall of her bedsit, her head an unmarked grave.  _Now you can settle down,_ Harriet’s voice insists,  _find yourself one of the boys come back._

As though the front had never been. The bullet.

The fever.

She sits: a nurse who can’t, a girl who died in a field hospital, a woman whose mind is standing water and blast-bare trees. Ghosts of themselves. 

Like her.

*

Michelle from nursing school introduces her to Sherlock, who decrypted for K Section. Who knows the smell of stumps six days untended and what bone does when burnt. Whose stare is mustard gas, is razor-tight rows of cocaine. Whose ribs hurt to look at. Who crashes through their city and their flat like a trapped winged thing. Whose work is a war unto itself.

Joan feeds her, and guards her flight, and fights.

*

Sherlock’s scarf is coral and crenellations: her thoughts sprayed fractal over her shoulder.

_I can’t believe you’re paying to have us painted._

_Mycroft is paying to have us painted,_ Sherlock says.

_She doesn’t know._

Joan can practically hear Sherlock’s smirk.  _Aren’t I a brat?_


End file.
